


Tadpoles, Pudding Balloons and the Future

by Water_Nix



Series: Klaintana Spooning 'Verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Water_Nix/pseuds/Water_Nix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt, Blaine and Santana have a talk about what comes next and are visited by Kurt's biggest fans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tadpoles, Pudding Balloons and the Future

The Lima Bean is a really poor substitute for a bar.

The three of them sit around a table, each depressed for their own private reasons – Kurt was rejected from his dream school, Santana is still shell-shocked that Brittany didn't graduate, and Blaine... well, he mostly feels bad on Kurt's behalf, and because he knows that NYADA or no NYADA, Kurt Hummel is still heading for New York at the end of the summer. Their iced coffees should be ice cold beers. And they would be, if it had been up to Santana.

“Well, on the bright side, Lady Hummel, at least you won't be stuck living with the Gruesome Twosome next year. That would have been severely gag-worthy. You probably would have ended up huddled in your tiny six-by-six New York apartment broom closet of a bedroom, cursing your life and wishing you had a window large enough to squeeze your womanly hips through so you could escape without having to see the two of them flopping around like a pair of dying fish with their tongues down each other's throats.”

Kurt clears his throat and closes his eyes for a moment. “Thank you for that lovely mental picture, Santana. And yes, I suppose that is _something_ on the positive side.” Blaine laughs a little and tries to cover his mouth, feeling guilty for finding something humorous when Kurt is hurting.

“Well, I didn't tell ya yet, but I've got good news. My mom gave me money for New York, so I'm totally coming with. We can find Gaytopia together, then bring Britts and Blainers in on the magic next year. And not an obnoxious Streisand wannabe or Stay Puff Marshmallow Man in sight. Just you an' me, kid!” She fakes punches Kurt's chin with an 'aw shucks' expression before sliding her mouth somewhat pornographically down her straw and sucking up her iced mocha.

“Seriously?” Blaine asks. “That is so amazing! Maybe the four of us can all go and pick out an apartment together.” He nods encouragingly at Kurt and is rewarded with a tiny, lopsided smile and a flash of dimple.

“And let me tell you, Dandy, when I gets to missin' my Britt-Britt, I am totally strapping a bra on you and filling the cups with pudding balloons and gropin' those puppies while I spoons you to sleep. And you will not fight me on this,” she says in a warning tone and shakes her finger at Kurt when he opens his mouth to do just that. “Or else I won't give you two any private nasty-makin' time when Blainers comes to visit. And I can give as well I as I can receive, you know. If you want me to shove one down below and press it up against your ass, I totally will.”

“Well, that certainly sweetens the deal,” Kurt says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You loves me,” Santana informs him and he rolls his eyes.

“But first things first,” Kurt says dramatically, lifting his cup in the air and waving it around. “I need to figure out what, exactly, I'm going to do once I get to New York. I can't just lie around and feel sorry for myself because I missed out on NYADA. I need to accomplish something while I'm waiting to reapply.”

“Audition,” Santana says with a shrug. “You are actually pretty awesome you know, Pretty. Show those uppity assholes that you don't need 'em. Get a part on your own.”

“I don't think it'll be that easy,” Kurt tells her with a sigh and Blaine rubs a soothing hand across his back.

“You can also apply for internships. Fashion houses, magazines, production companies. If they meet you you'll be a shoe-in. You're a pretty difficult man to resist.”

Santana snorts at Blaine's obvious innuendo and kicks him under the table. “I'm gonna try and get in with a label. Any label. I'll answer phones and shit if I've got to. Or maybe get hired on as a backup singer. And me and you, Gayest of the Gays, we'll find us a cute little place to sing karaoke every week so we don't get rusty while we're waiting to be discovered.”

Kurt smiles for real this time and Blaine nudges Santana with his foot and she winks at him knowingly.

“Um... Hi, Kurt!” says a bright, unfamiliar voice to the right of the table. The three of them look up at two boys walking past with matching messenger bags, both wearing wide grins and blushing a deep pink.

“Hey fellas!” Kurt says and gives them a little wave. They giggle into their hands and fall against each other as they keep walking.

“Who are they?” Blaine asks, attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He can feel Santana giving him a look, even though his eyes are trained on Kurt.

“Oh,” Kurt says, taking a sip of his drink. “Those are just the tadpole gays.”

“The what?”

“Tadpole gays. Haven't you noticed them around McKinley with their expertly knotted scarves and jauntily places caps and other bold fashion choices?” He smiles proudly and Blaine furrows his brow.

“No, I haven't.”

“They look like your clones,” Santana says, craning her neck to see around another couple to where the two boys are stealing furtive glances back at Kurt and practically swooning.

“They are not,” Kurt tells her with a roll of his eyes. “Well, maybe they look up to me a bit, like I paved the way towards being okay to be themselves in that stifling environment. I think it's cute. The little one asked me to sign his yearbook last week, and when I handed it back to him he started to cry.”

Santana raises her eyebrows and looks across at Blaine who has wrapped his arms around his chest and is pouting in the direction of his half-empty drink.

“Anyway,” Kurt continues. “They're totally adorable. It's so cute how into each other they are.”

Blaine looks over at Kurt and back to where the boys are still obviously talking about him. “No, I'm pretty sure each other is not, in fact, who they are into.”

Kurt gives Blaine a puzzled look and the taller of the two boys pops up next to their table, clutching a red book to his chest. “Kurt,” he says, his voice breathy and his eyes glazed. “I know school is all over, but I was wondering if you would mind signing my yearbook? I was so distraught when I thought I wouldn't get the chance to ask you.”

Kurt smiles up at him and Blaine glares until Santana kicks him under the table again and he is momentarily distracted by the pain in his shin. “Sure. Of course I will,” Kurt answers.

The boy passes him the book and a pen with a dazed look on his face.“Thanks so much! You should sign on page fifty-three, next to that really, _really_ good picture of you.”

Kurt flips the book open to page fifty-three and studies it for a second before letting out a short laugh. “That is a good picture of me,” he says.

“Yeah,” the boy answers dreamily. “Your hair was extra swoopy that day.”

Santana snorts a laugh and Blaine quietly seethes as the boy backs away to leave Kurt to it.

“Jesus, Hummel. You've got groupies,” Santana says with a laugh.

“I do not, they're –” And that's when he catches Blaine's posture and the look on his face. “Blaine, they're just the tadpole gays!”

Blaine shrugs his shoulders and unwraps his arms from around his torso and forces himself to take a drink from his iced coffee.

“Seriously, you're upset about this?”

“Maybe it's a bit of a sore spot for him, Texty McSexterson,” Santana says.

“Oh my God, for the last time, Santana, they were not sexts! They were just a few stupid texts that meant nothing! And I learned my lesson, okay?” He turns to Blaine and places a gentle hand on his arm. “I'm just signing his yearbook, Blaine. Why are you upset, sweetie? I don't even know his name.”

“I'm not. It's fine,” Blaine says with a sigh and a shake of his head. “It is cute how they hero worship you. I'm just being stupid.”

“No you are not, silly. You are never stupid.”

“I'm about to barf over here, Ward and June Cleaver. Would you hurry up and sign the damn yearbook. Kid looks like he's about to cream his pants with excitement over there.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and gnaws on the pen for a moment before he scribbles a message next to his picture, something about staying fabulous and not letting anyone get you down. He is being watched so closely that as soon as he shuts the book and leans into Blaine's shoulder, the boy is there as if summoned, his eyes wide with excitement. Kurt hands him back his book and then picks up the pen. He pulls a face. “Oh, sorry, I kinda chewed on your pen. Here, I'll just wipe some of the spit off...” Kurt rolls it over a napkin a couple of times and passes it back, the boy clutching it in his fist like it's a priceless treasure.

He thanks Kurt again, his voice sounding too close to what could be referred to as reverent for Blaine's liking, and backs away towards his table where his friend is waiting impatiently, a sour, jealous look on his face.

“God knows what he's gonna do with that pen when he gets home.”

“Oh my God, Santana! That's – You're disturbed!”

“What? I meant, like, try to clone you or something. What did you think I meant?” She waggles her eyebrows and Kurt mutters under his breath.

“Well, come on guys!” Blaine says, still glaring at the swooning boys out of the corner of his eye. “We're supposed to meet Brittany for mini golf in fifteen minutes.” Santana jumps up from her seat, wearing a contagious smile and Kurt and Blaine follow after. “And then maybe we can go window shopping for design ideas for your apartment.”

“You mean _our_ apartment,” Kurt says and squeezes Blaine's hand. And Blaine sighs happily at his love and his friend, forgetting all about the tadpole gays who are intent upon the sway of Kurt's hips as they make their way to the door and out into the clear morning.


End file.
